


Window + Leather Belt

by tommino



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Car Accident, Gen, Hurt!Mac, Whump, falling out a window
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 09:50:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16532234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommino/pseuds/tommino
Summary: Mac climbs out a lot of windows. Jack only had to learn his lesson once.---Prompt from KatieComma:“Ok… but… the way Jack always grabs Mac’s belt when he leans out of a car window… don’t tell me there’s not a story there where Mac fell out of a car…”





	Window + Leather Belt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KatieComma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma/gifts).



> Thank you [Alliemackenzie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alliemackenzie28/pseuds/Alliemackenzie28) for beta-ing, and Telltaleclerk for the fantastic idea ♥

 

Mac dangles out the window, one hand braced on the roof as Jack wrangles the Jeep around yet another hairpin turn. These damn backwoods roads are more dirt than asphalt.

 

“Not exactly the best conditions for clingin’ to my windshield like a bug, Mac!”

 

A tree up ahead bursts into splinters, a narrow miss as the truck behind them empties another clip of ammunition in their direction. Jack curses and tries not to swerve too hard when a few bullets ping into the back of the Jeep. Barely five months since wrapping up their military tours, and the two of them are already getting shot at again. Why did he let Mac talk him into the superspy gig again?

 

His partner is undeterred, one foot hooked around the passenger seat as he fiddles outside with a tangled mass of bungee cords. Jack don’t know what he’s building - knows better than to ask - but still keeps one eye on Mac’s precarious position.

 

Gunfire shatters the driver’s side mirror and Jack’s attention is sharply redirected. The flatbed truck behind them is catching up, close enough that Jack can make out the glowering faces of three men in the back with rifles.

 

“Mac get back in here, your gizmo can officially wait!”

 

His partner shouts to be heard over the speeding wind, brows furrowed in total focus on his task. “Hang on, I just need to rea-”

 

The back tire of the Jeep explodes with a concussive BANG. The vehicle lurches, unbalanced by the shot-out wheel, and Mac’s foot immediately jolts loose. He drops forward with a panicked shout.

 

Jack’s heart freezes, time stretching like taffy. He hears Mac’s palms thud against the side of the Jeep, scrabbling for purchase across the smooth metal. Mac is falling, and their ride is still barreling forward at sixty miles an hour. Jack releases the steering wheel entirely to swipe at Mac’s flailing legs.

 

As he dives sideways, Jack can see the kid’s expression in the passenger side mirror, blue eyes blown wide in a moment of unfiltered fear. It’s the same expression when a countdown timer doesn’t stop ticking, when a security alarm starts blaring above their heads. When everything has gone suddenly, irreversibly _wrong._

 

It’s all too fast. Mac’s ankles slip through Jack’s fingers - and then he’s gone.

 

He’s just gone.

 

Jack’s gaze is still locked on the side mirror in horror when Mac hits the ground. One shoulder turns inward on impact, somersaulting Mac onto his hip and smashing his thighs into the dirt road. The blonde manages to bring his forearms up in time to wrap meagre protection around his head.

 

Rocks and dust kick up in a violent burst as he tumbles over and over on his side, rolling heavily across the road. Mac bounces once, twice - and barely misses the industrial tread wheels of the truck behind them. The gunmen have no time to sight their target, but point and shout to their driver as they pass the sprawling agent.

 

_Shit._

 

Jack slams into second gear and yanks up on the handbrake as hard as he can, barely sparing a glance at the road ahead when he flicks the steering wheel sideways. The Jeep immediately skids into a drift. A curtain of dust sweeps behind screeching tires, following his curve.

 

Halfway through the rotation, Jack kicks out the clutch and revs forward, speeding directly into the path of the slowing truck. His combat boot clunks the metal gas pedal into the floor - and he sees the other driver’s eyes go wide. Jack clenches his jaw, doesn’t even flinch.

 

Seconds before they collide, the truck jerks to the right. Jack reacts fast enough to ensure that the Jeep clips the back corner of the flatbed. The impact jolts him forward, seatbelt snapping into his chest and knee cracking painfully against the steering unit. He wrestles with the wheel to keep himself on course.

 

The truck is worse off though, sent into a wild fishtail by the uneven sideswipe. Jack watches in the rearview mirror as the vehicle oversteers, rumbling off the road and smashing into the treeline.

 

Jack focuses forward again, pumping the brakes as he frantically scans the side of the road for his partner. How far back did MacGyver fall? Will Jack see blood in all this dust? He’s sure Mac didn’t go under the wheels; he saw the way Mac rolled, saw it clearly and there’s no chance that...

 

Then he sees a crumpled form in the grass, blonde hair smeared with dirt and blood. The Jeep slides to a stop. Jack throws the door wide and stumbles out.

 

Sprawled on his back, Mac just lies there - covered in scrapes and staring blankly in shock. A rush of _relief_ steals the breath from Jack’s lungs when he sees his partner shift haltingly. He’s alive, he’s moving.

 

MacGyver looks stunned, still gasping for the air knocked out of him on impact. A myriad of scratches furrow down the outside of his arms, and tears in the fabric of his pants show flashes of bloody knees. He’s clutching one arm close to his chest as Jack staggers over.

 

“Jack I-”

 

“Easy brother, you’re alright. You’re okay.” Jack’s hands brush over Mac’s head, reaching behind his neck to follow the line of his spine and then sweeping down his flank to feel for broken ribs. The kid had hit the ground so _fast_ … “I need you to take a deep breath for me, Mac.”

 

The younger agent shudders through a shallow inhale, face pinching further at whatever pain must answer the attempt. No protrusions, no punctures. Jack doesn’t bother reaching for Mac’s arm - he knows a dislocated shoulder when he sees it. His palms move to check the hip Mac landed on.

 

“What happened?” Mac wheezes. Jack’s hands come away tinged red, road burn having torn away a few layers of his partner’s side. Nothing life threatening, but he knows it must feel like a hot brand prickling ruthlessly into Mac’s skin. Jack scrubs the blood into the black of his jeans nervously, hands trembling.

 

“You took a nosedive outta the Jeep, that’s what happened,” he says in a grumble, examining Mac’s legs next. Jack had been stupid - should have known their pursuit would aim for the back tires. “And you’re damn lucky not to be takin’ a dirt nap right now.”

 

He finds more blood and bruises from the waist down. Mac’s ankle is twisted, probably broken but not yet swelling. Jack considers the chance of hairline fractures, most of which will only be revealed with an x-ray. He needs to get Mac out of here and into a hospital.

 

“Ow,” Mac reflects.

 

“No kidding, champ.”

 

A metal door slams, startling them both. Jack shifts into a crouch, immediately defensive over his downed partner. Not too far down the road, smoke curls from the crumpled hood of the truck. There’s movement and shouting around the vehicle.

 

Jack loops an arm under Mac’s good shoulder. “Up you get, we gotta go.”

 

MacGyver hisses as Jack carefully steers him into sitting upright. A smear of dirt on Mac’s forehead mixes with a trickle of blood. He looks dazed, but determined to get onto his feet. Jack desperately hopes Mac doesn’t have a concussion. He needs that brain to get them both to exfil.

 

“You really did a number on the Jeep,” Mac says, groaning as he’s hauled into a standing position. He wobbles slightly, leaning against Jack and squinting at the shredded metal by the driver’s seat.

 

Jack pulls a scowl. “Well you’re not lookin’ so shiny yourself. Can you walk on that busted ankle?”

 

In answer, Mac takes one step forward and crumples. Jack catches him, just barely, and feels tense muscles quivering as MacGyver fights back a wave of pain. The kid’s nearly as stubborn as Jack, but they have no time for this. He ducks under Mac’s arm to shoulder more of his partner’s weight. One hand finds the back of Mac’s belt, and he doesn’t let go of the convenient handhold. Together they half-stumble, half-drag MacGyver into the backseat of the waiting Jeep.

 

Jack buckles him in - despite Mac’s half-hearted protests - and then slides behind the wheel.

 

.

 

\--------------------------------

 

.

 

One hospital trip, three weeks of physical therapy, and six missions later... they find themselves in another car chase. Jack tries to appreciate that at least he’s steering a gorgeous Corvette this time. Bright side and all that.

 

Beside him, Mac is tearing strips from a plastic bag, a pair of headphones already split into wires on his lap and halfway jammed into an empty bottle. Jack nearly chokes when Mac starts rolling down the window.

 

“Oh _hell_ no! You are sadly mistaken if you think I’m gonna let ya pull that stunt again, cupcake. Please keep all arms and legs inside the vehicle.”

 

They both hear the grating edge of concern in Jack’s voice. Mac looks over, and his face softens from being mission-focused into something more honest, more open.

 

“We’re twelve miles from the drop-point and backup isn’t coming,” Mac starts cautiously. Rationally. “I’ll be careful, but I have to do this. I’m okay.”

 

Jacks holds his determined gaze for moment longer, knowing that Mac’s right and hating that this is apparently going to be a regular occurance. He pulls his eyes reluctantly back to the road, nodding once. They’re professionals, aren’t they?

 

MacGyver hesitates only for a second before opening the window the rest of the way. Grabbing up his contraption, he slowly leans out and pulls himself toward the roof.

 

As Mac climbs farther out the window, Jack’s mind flashes back all too quickly to memories of his partner tumbling - remembers dragging Mac’s battered body into a helicopter amid hitched gasps, patching oozing scrapes en route to Phoenix, and watching mottled bruises take weeks to fade.

 

Jack can’t help but shift his grip on the wheel. Only takes one hand to steer anyway.

 

He reaches out across the passenger seat, looping a hand into Mac’s belt. His fingers grip tight against the sturdy leather. Wordlessly, Mac leans further, secure in the knowledge that Jack won’t let him go.

 

Not this time.

 

.

**Author's Note:**

> ... And thus a beautiful tradition begins.


End file.
